Saturday, October 1, 2011

Pants on Fire

It’s a real wonder that this blog post exists at all. I barely had time to type a word or two between scratching my nine fire ant bites. Yes, I have nine fire ant bites, and this is probably the third time I’ve found myself standing in a fire ant bed this season. I’m not having good luck with ants this year.

I had just arrived back at my parent’s house after a lovely day of shopping and Mexican food. It was an extremely successful shopping trip. I purchased a new writing desk at a really great price at a local furniture store. That’s the other reason that this post almost didn’t get written. Despite the fact that a writing desk should be used for writing, I haven’t been able to stop staring at it long enough since I bought it to actually get any writing done. It’s so pretty, and I’ve dreamed of having my own writing desk for a long time. But I digress, as usual.

Anyway, I was back at my parent’s house, loading up my Volkswagen with all of my new treasures. I typically park my car in the yard at their house to avoid taking up driveway space. I happen to know that their yard has several fire ant beds. In fact, my Daddy, just before we left for shopping, had warned me to avoid the fire ant bed beside my car. But it had been an entire three hours since that fateful reminder, so naturally, I’d forgotten all about it.

I remembered soon enough though. When surprising things like getting attacked by hundreds of fire ants happen, you tend to react as if in slow motion. I know this because it seemed to take ages from the time I looked down at my foot, realized it was covered in fire ants, and actually moved away from the bed. And fire ants don’t need ages to climb all over your legs and start biting you. Trust me. Again, I know. 

As I discovered my grave mistake, I started shaking my right leg as though it was on fire. At this point, I hadn’t realized that both legs were covered in ants. So I continued to play hopscotch up the driveway, slapping at my leg and squealing at my Mama to come “help me!” For those who know me best, you may know that coordination is not one of the blessings I possess, and the coordination it takes to knock fire ants off your legs while running to your mother for help is impressive to say the least.

When I reached Mama, I found that my left leg was covered in ants as well. This increased the amount of awkward dancing exponentially. Mama’s protective instincts kicked in pretty quickly though, and soon we were both slapping at my legs and stomping the ground in perfect synchronization.  Cue more awkward dancing.

In our fit of slapping and stomping, we realized that my neighbor, who had probably been enjoying a nice nap in the rocking chair on his front porch before all our racket, was now curiously watching our antics. The only thing better than finding yourself in a fire ant bed? Having an audience for the occasion!

I’m just glad I had the presence of mind not to rip my pants off in the front yard, although that might have saved me from getting bitten nine times. At the end of the day, nine fire ant bites is still better than getting arrested for indecent exposure. And mark my words, the next time I visit my parents I’m parking on the driveway, someone else can take the grass. 

This morning I'm linking up with The Lightning and the Lightning Bug's Dare to Share prompt. The prompt theme is: Embarrassment. Come check us out!

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